Turning Pages

  I heard this prompt on Wednesday morning. When I heard it I thought it would be perfect, so I started typing away at my keyboard… for like three minutes. Then I got distracted and clicked on a different tab to work on something else. Then with 10 minutes left in class I resumed my journey of writing this essay; but then the bell rang and I told myself, i'll work on it later . That evening I got home from practice exhausted and I told myself I'll finish it tomorrow. On Thursday I had a swim meet, I realized I didn't have the time to finish the blog, so I told myself I'll email Ms. Rodems. I then proceeded to forget to email Ms. Rodems and fall asleep. Now, today, it's Friday and i'm finally writing the essay.  That pretty much describes my relationship with procrastination. I always tell myself I can do something tomorrow and then when tomorrow comes I tell myself I'll do it later, then suddenly later is tomorrow and the cycle repeats itself. To my credit I...

  I wouldn't call myself a perfectionist, I don't think I could be one even if I tried, at least not anymore.     I remember when I was in middle school and I used to be obsessed with being perfect. Or at least my version of what perfection was. I wanted to be perfect, or at least appear perfect in order to hide all of my insecurities. I remember being very insecure in middle school. I always felt like I didnt quite fit in, I never knew how people wanted me to act.  I wasnt always like this. I dont think anyone starts off insecure. I think insecurities are something brought on when people begin to lose their childhood innocence and start feeling the pressure of living up to societal standards. For me I felt an overwhelming pressure to act a certain way. My entire life – especially when I was younger– I constantly saw the negative stereotypes associated with black people. We are too loud, we dont talk properly, we arent smart, the list goes on. As a kid...

Longing for the past while living in the present, that's nostalgia. It's really a bittersweet feeling, remembering the joy you felt in a moment of your past knowing you can never create it again. Nostalgia always gets me thinking about the past and I often wish I could return some of those moments. This yearning for the past reminds me  of my favorite childhood book, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. The Giving Tree is a book that follows the lives of an apple tree and a boy, who develop a relationship with each other. When the boy is young he and the tree are inseparable but as he ages his priorities change and they grow apart. As they grow apart the tree still gives the boy everything he wants from her apples to make money,  to her trunk so he can build a boat. Each time the tree gives the boy something he comes back and asks for more but eventually he comes back and the tree has nothing left to give the boy but a place to sit. “Well,’ said the tree, straightening hers...